


Space Rom Com

by Nicnac



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Comedy, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-21 21:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2483603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicnac/pseuds/Nicnac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim wants one thing to be absolutely clear. His life is <i>not</i> a romantic comedy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jim burst into McCoy’s office, fully aware of the wide-eyed crazed look he was sporting – while an empty sickbay was always something to be glad of, Jim found himself especially grateful today – and blurted out, “I’m in love with Spock.”

McCoy did not react like Jim expected, with copious swearing and liquor. Instead he set aside the PADD he was working on and picked up another one sitting next to it, fiddling around with it and just generally ignoring Jim. Jim waited in silence for an hour of agony, which was something like seven seconds in real time, before stalking across to collapse in the chair in front of McCoy’s desk and saying, irritated, “Anytime you want to join me here in my existential crisis, Bones.”

That got McCoy’s attention enough for him to glance up at Jim, before turning back at his PADD. “I’m just looking for the record function on this thing. That Russian midget is never going to pay up his end of the bet if I don’t offer him proof.”

Jim took a couple of seconds to process that when his initial interpretation didn’t make any sense, then a couple more when he still came up with the same answer. “You and Chekov have _not_ been betting on my feelings.” Not little, angel-faced, teenaged (well, technically Chekov had turned 20 just last month, but he’d always be a teenager to Jim) Chekov.

“Course not,” McCoy said with a snort. Jim felt a brief moment of relief, but McCoy kept right on talking. “No one’s stupid enough to take that bet. The actual bet was on when you’d pull your head out of your ass long enough to realize you’re head over heels for the hobgoblin. And it’s not just me and Chekov, the whole senior staff, aside from you and Spock, and most of the alpha shift bridge crew are in on it.”

“Even Uhura?” As Spock’s ex-girlfriend, she had to find it crass, or uncomfortable, right? But McCoy nodded in confirmation, leading Jim to slump down into his chair. “I’m not sure if I’m more shocked that you would do that, or that I didn’t see it coming.”

“Definitely the latter,” McCoy opinioned. Yeah, that sounded about right.

“Fine, I don’t need you guys anyway. From now on Spock, Rand, and Hendorff are my best friends.”

“That’s right,” McCoy said with a snap of his fingers. “Rand and Barrows are in on it too. I knew I was forgetting someone.”

“Just Spock and Hendorff, then,” Jim said with a frown.

McCoy raised an eyebrow at him before returning to his PADD. “Well, if you want to be besties with the two people on this ship who’ve beat the crap out of you, then don’t let me stop you.” Jim’s frown deepened, but McCoy didn’t notice, too busy _finally_ finding the PADD’s record function (seriously, Bones was such an old man sometimes). McCoy’s PADD was then shoved into Jim’s face and Jim was prompted to, “Just repeat that bit about figuring out you’re in love with Spock.”

Jim pushed the PADD away, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t just figure it out; I’m not a complete moron. I’ve known how I feel about Spock for forever, since you brought me back from the dead as a zombie.”

McCoy eyed Jim. “One, you were only ever mostly dead, and you are not now nor have you ever been a zombie. Two, after this conversation we’re going back to pretending that you only figured it out just now, because there’s a big pile of credits riding on it calling my name me. And three, if you’ve known about this for almost two years, why the hell are you only coming to me in a panic now?”

Jim looked away and mumbled, “Well, if I loved him less, I might be able to talk about it more.”

McCoy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Jim, you know you’re my best friend.”

“Certain bets notwithstanding, yes.”

“And you know I care about you and support your life choices.”

“You complain about my life choices every damn day,” Jim objected.

“I support the life choices that won’t eventually get you killed,” corrected McCoy.

“So, that’s none of them.”

McCoy looked like he wanted to hit Jim, or maybe whip out a hypospray to use on him, so Jim tossed him his best grin. McCoy sighed and rolled his eyes before continuing. “The point is, I want you to know it’s coming from a place of love when I tell you, that is the gayest thing you’ve ever said.”

“It’s a Jane Austen quote!”

“I stand corrected,” McCoy said. “It’s even gayer.” Now _Jim_ kind of felt like hitting _McCoy_ , but still wary of the possibility of a hidden hypospray, he settled for scowling at the man (scowling, definitely not pouting). McCoy, defenseless against Jim’s scowl-not-a-pout, thankfully changed the subject. “Okay, so your love is so sacred and eternal and snow-driven pure you dared not speak of it before. That still doesn’t explain why you’re here _now_.”

“Because I was playing chess with Spock a few minutes ago when he _touched my hand_.” McCoy looked at Jim blankly. “Okay, I know it doesn’t sound like a big deal, but Spock is a Vulcan, so it kind of is. Besides, you weren’t there; you didn’t see the look in his eyes. Spock’s totally in love with me, Bones, and he knows it.”

“Of course he’s in love with you! I’ve known that since our unemotional, logical, pacifist First Officer went batshit and tried to beat a man to death for almost killing you. Why the hell do you think Uhura broke up with him?” Fair point, but Jim honestly hadn’t thought about that at all. He never really understood the whole Spock-Uhura relationship in the first place, plus thinking about it gave Jim a weird feeling (not jealousy; Jim Kirk did not do jealousy) so he tried to avoid doing so whenever possible.

When Jim didn’t answer McCoy’s question except for a half-hearted shrug, McCoy continued, “Alright, so you love him and he loves you and the two of you can hare off and explore the galaxy as space husbands, or whatever. I’m not seeing the downside here, Jim.”

“The downside is that I have a plan, and Spock is ruining it.”

“You have a plan,” McCoy said, with way more skepticism than necessary. Okay, slightly more skepticism than necessary.

“Yes, I have a plan, a good plan. I spend the rest of this mission and the next one completely in love with Spock. But Spock doesn’t know that I love him, or that he love me back, and we spend the time as best friends who are closer to each other than anyone else in the universe. Also, I take advantage of Spock’s ignorance of the romantic portion of our relationship to sow my wild oats and shit. At the end of that, I finally tell Spock the truth and he has a Vulcan style freak-out, running off to attempt _kolinahr._ After three years of that, he’ll realize I’m way too awesome to emotionally purge, so he’ll come back and apologize and admit he loves me too. And _then_ we’ll ‘hare off and explore the galaxy as space husbands, or whatever.’”

“That is an oddly specific plan,” said McCoy, with way more suspicion than necessary. Slightly more suspicion than necessary. A fully justified amount of suspicion.

“Dying really does a great job of knocking things loose in your brain,” Jim told him, tapping his head for emphasis. “And, as it turns out, Old Spock isn’t as great at controlling his mind melds as one might think.”

McCoy looked at Jim, blatant horror written in his expression. “Please tell me you haven’t been walking around for the past two years with our entire future mapped out in your head.”

“Nah,” Jim said, “I had pretty much forgotten it all by the time I left the hospital. But I did write the important bits down, just in case. Which, by the way, remind me to pick up a couple of blue whales the next time we’re in the 20th century.”

McCoy looked at him for a second before shaking his head. “I don’t even want to know. And stop trying to distract me.”

"I’m not trying to distract you, that really is important. Apparently.” Although for the life of him, Jim couldn’t remember why.

McCoy just glared at Jim, until Jim felt appropriately cowed. He honestly hadn’t been trying to distract McCoy, but he could totally see how that might have been the end result. Completely inadvertently, of course.  “What it sounds like to me,” McCoy said, once he seemed satisified that Jim’s attention was back on the matter at hand, “is that you have every intention of spending the rest of your life with Spock.”

“Absolutely,” Jim agreed, though truthfully intentions didn’t even come into it. He and Spock were an inevitability, like gravity. Except one could get away from gravity, provided they reached escape velocity, and there was no escaping this, so it was really more like a black hole. Which meant the event horizon was the day they met. Or maybe the day Jim was born. Or maybe the day Spock was born, because Spock was older and Jim would hate to think there was a possibility of a universe were there was a Spock, but there was never a Jim. And also Jim wasn’t trapped, like a black hole would imply, he wanted this, and wow was this metaphor getting away from him. This is why he left the writing to the experts.

“But you want to wait to start a romantic relationship until after you have a chance to ‘sow your wild oats and shit?’” McCoy continued.

“Yes,” said Jim, with somewhat less conviction this time.

“That is some grade A bullshit,” McCoy said. “You don’t want to sow any wild oats; you hate one-night stands. You’re a serial monogamist if I’ve ever met one.”

“Serial monogamist? I’ve never had a serious relationship in my life!” Jim objected.

“So you’re a serial monogamist with a fear of commitment,” said McCoy with a shrug.

“Isn’t that a contradiction in terms?”

“Yep. That’s why it meshes so well with the rest of your personality.” Jim responded to that like a mature and seasoned starship captain he was… by sticking out his tongue. McCoy fixed him with his ‘why am I friends with this idiot’ expression before subsiding into something more serious. “Look, God knows you’ve got reasons to be wary of commitment, and I’m sure you haven’t even told me the half of it.”

“More like two-thirds,” Jim offered, which earned him a small smile from McCoy.

“So I understand why you wouldn’t want to rush into anything with Spock. You’re not old enough for any kind of permanent commitment anyway.”

“I’m twenty-eight, not eighteen,” Jim said.

“Both of which are less than thirty, which is too damn young for marriage,” McCoy said sternly, practically wagging a finger in Jim’s direction. Such an old man. “But no one says that you have to walk out of here and hitch your wagon to Spock permanently today.”

“Exactly,” Jim said. “That’s why the plan is to wait until the end of our second five year mission.”

“And if he gets tired of waiting for you and moves on to someone else?” That couldn’t happen and it wouldn’t happen, but just the suggestion made something dark and unpleasant uncurl in Jim’s gut. “I thought that might get your attention. You’ve got to remember, there’s a lot of differences between this timeline and that one. And you’d be a damn fool if you let something great pass you by just because of some conviction you have in a false future.”

“But what if…” But Jim didn’t even know, ‘what if’ he was worrying about. He just knew that he was supposed to have years to get used to this whole thing and all the sudden he was supposed to just jump into it? Sure, he had been recruited to Starfleet for his knack of leaping in where angels have feared to boldly go before (or something like that. His recollection of that particular night was not the best), but this shit was scary.

“Look Jim, you know how I feel about that green-blooded bastard” – Bones for ‘he’s my second best friend in the world after you, Jim’ – “but I’ve seen the two of you together, and I think you’d be good for each other. He makes you…”

“Happy?” Jim suggested.

“Content. I’ve never seen you so complete and at peace with yourself as when you’re around him.”

“Hold up a moment,” Jim said. “I may love Spock, and may want him” – God did he want him – “and he may be the stoic and slightly socially inept Mr. Darcy to my kick-ass Elizabeth Bennet” – and he was never going to live that one down – “but I don’t need him to complete me. This is not a romantic comedy and I’m not a spunky career-minded girl who needs some guy’s dick to remind her how to have fun.”

“Of course you aren’t,” McCoy said, standing up. “Spock’s the stoic career-minded man that needs to be reminded how to have fun, and you are his manic pixie dream girl.” Then he crossed the room, ruffled Jim’s hair, and then exited his office. Not because he was needed in the empty sickbay, but because, despite being a fully grown man, McCoy was a prissy little drama queen and knew how to make an exit.

“That’s insubordination!” Jim called out. There had to be something in the regs about petting your superior officer’s head. “I’m firing your ass and making M’Benga my CMO.”

“No you’re not,” McCoy shouted back. And, no offense to M’Benga, he really wasn’t. God damn it.

Jim dropped his head on McCoy’s desk with a thunk and tried to figure out how this was his life. “Stop being a prissy little drama queen, Jim!”

God _damn_ it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, who wants to do the Kirk/Spock Pride and Prejudice AU? *raises eyebrows*


	2. Chapter 2

The only upside to this whole situation, Jim thought, was at this point in gamma shift the corridors tended to be relatively empty, so only one person has walked by so far to see the Captain standing outside the door to the First Officer’s quarters, looking mildly terrified. Jim was trying not to think too hard about the likelihood that it was going to be all over the ship tomorrow anyway, given said person was Yeoman Barrows, who at times had all the professionalism and discretion of a grapefruit. Though, grapefruits were probably actually pretty discrete by fruit standards because of the thick rind. Barrows was more like… a strawberry; they were pretty naked. Not that Barrows was going around naked or anything, except for, you know, in the shower and at other normal-to-be-naked times and stuff. But not on duty. Well, except technically she must have been at least mostly naked on duty that one time when she had been a part of the landing party to scout out Shore Leave Planet and had changed clothes into that princess dress. But other than that… there had been this other time, and wow Jim, _focus_.

It was stupid to be scared, really. He was just visiting Spock; he did that all the time. Just because the last time he had done so had been about a week ago, and had ended with Jim not-fleeing in a not-panic after Spock had made out with him (made out with him, touched his hand, same difference), didn’t make it a big deal. It was a medium-sized deal at best. Medium-large. Whatever.

Jim took a deep breath, steeled himself, counted to three, proceeded to count to five, proceeded to count to ten, decided that counting to fifteen would be a bit ridiculous, and finally pressed the buzzer to Spock’s door.

“Spock here.”

Wow, okay, so they were doing this now. “Hey Spock, it’s Jim. I kind of wanted to talk if you have a minute.”

“I see.” And didn’t that just sound heavy and ominous. But, then again, so did a lot of the things that Spock said, that was just how his voice was. “Come in.”

Spock’s door swished open and Jim entered to be confronted with Spock standing behind his desk at full attention. “Good evening, Captain,” he said, stiff even by Spock’s standards. Oh god, he was so pissed.

“Jim,” he corrected. “It’s Jim when we’re off-duty.” With one possible exception, but Jim really didn’t think now was the time to get into Spock’s feelings on role-play and the old cadet uniform that Jim might possibly still have stashed in the back of his closet.

“Jim,” Spock said, with a slight inclination of his head and a minute relaxing of his shoulders. Shit, Spock wasn’t pissed, he was _hurt_. God that was so much worse. Jim knew how to deal with angry people, but he was no good at hurt. He couldn’t comfort for shit, especially not a Vulcan who would deny the need for comfort until he was blue in the face. (Green in the face? Yellow? What color do Vulcan’s faces turn when they’re running short on breath?)

Jim took a few uncertain steps forward – he knew he needed to do something, though fuck if he knew what – and then nearly busted his ass when he stepped on something.

“Captain, are you alright?” So much for being called Jim.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” said Jim, once he regained his balance and was sure he was not, in fact, going to fall. “I just stepped on something.” Jim bent down to pick said thing up and was surprised to find himself holding a chess piece – one of the black bishops. What the hell? Jim turned the piece over between his fingers. He couldn’t swear to it, but he thought… Jim glanced up at the desk and there was Spock’s chess set sitting on the edge, exactly where it had been a week ago, halfway reset, exactly like it had been a week ago. Which meant the bishop Jim had stepped on had been the piece that Jim had been holding a week ago when Spock had accidentally-on-purpose brushed his hand against Jim’s, causing Jim to drop the piece and rush out of the room with some made-up excuse about forgetting he had made plans with Bones.

“Spock,” Jim said, interrupting Spock saying something about not having time to pick up – Ha! As if. They could be in the middle of a firefight with the Klingons and Spock would find time to clean up. “Is this a shitty metaphor? It is, isn’t it? It’s a really shitty metaphor.” The pieces left on the side of the desk untouched, like Spock would never get to touch Jim again, and the bishop left abandoned on the floor, like Jim had abandoned Spock. Pretty awful, even by Jim’s standards. Well, maybe not by _Jim’s_ standards, but then coming up with metaphors that awful really took talent.

Spock didn’t respond verbally, just gave Jim his ‘I will never understand you strange illogical humans’ look, which was probably fair, even if Jim was totally right.  Still, only he who is without sin should be casting stones inside glass houses, so Jim didn’t try to argue the point, instead just shaking his head at Spock before sitting down – in the same chair Jim had pulled across the room a week ago to play chess and that Spock apparently hadn’t bothered to move back – and starting to put the chessboard back to rights. Spock took Jim’s cue and sat down as well, taking in Jim’s actions with his customary raised eyebrow. “By the way,” Jim said, after setting up the first couple of pieces, “This is not me extending your shitty metaphor; I’m just resetting your chess board. Because I want no part of this.” Okay, so maybe he was throwing one tiny, little, baby stone, but he got into enough trouble with shitty metaphors on his own, he really didn’t need Spock’s help.

“I understand,” Spock said, his voice neutral. And not ‘this is just how my voice sounds’ Spock-normal neutral, super ‘Vulcans can feel no pain because pain is illogical and emotions are for the weak’ neutral. Crap! What had Jim done this time? “In that case, I must apologize for my grossly inappropriate and unprofessional behavior 1.143 weeks ago and I am fully prepared to accept any reprimand you see fit, including officially filed charges of sexual harassment.”

What!? “What!? Spock, I don’t want to charge you with sexual harassment. Where the hell is that even coming from? Is it because you touched my hand, because I’m not even sure I even can charge for sexual harassment based off that,” Jim said.

“Hand touching is a gesture with a great deal of significance in Vulcan culture,” Spock said slowly, like he couldn’t quite believe that Jim was that stupid. It was totally unfair, because Jim did obviously know what the gesture meant, but he also knew that if he put ‘my First Officer touched my hand, accompanied by a loving gaze’ on a sexual harassment form, Komack would give him that look, the one that said ‘why exactly did we let this kid run off with our flagship and our prize Vulcan, again?’ Of course, that was the kind of implicit prejudice that kept the vast majority of Starfleet recruits human, but walking away with the moral high ground on Komack tended to land Jim in bigger trouble in the long run, so best to just avoid that situation altogether.

Jim, being Jim, then discarded the complex thoughts on speciesism and the favoritism (or lack therefore of) hidden in Starfleet’s upper echelons in favor of a joke. “Technically, the two of us are three-quarters human. Mathematically, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have a leg to stand on,” he said with a winning grin.

Spock gave Jim a withering look, which was pretty ballsy from a guy who thought he had sexually harassed his commanding officer (he hadn’t, well maybe a little bit, but that wasn’t the point). “As a Starfleet captain, you are of course aware that the sexual harassment policy places a greater emphasis on the intentions of the perpetrator and the perceptions of the victim than it does on any specific actions.”

“And my _perception_ is that I didn’t feel victimized,” Jim said, effectively closing the subject.

Spock inclined his head in acknowledgement. “Very well, Captain. Then let me assure you that it will not happen again” – oh yes it would, if Jim had anything to say about it – “and, if you feel it necessary, I have already filled out the paperwork for my trans-“

“Stop!” Jim said, fighting the urge to slap his hands over Spock’s mouth to physically stop the words from coming out. “Just stop talking for a second, okay? Because if you tell me that you’ve actually filled out transfer paperwork, I’m going to assume that my asshole behavior last week made you change your mind and that you want to leave. And so I’ll sign off on the transfer, which will make you think that I want you to leave. And then we’ll both be miserable and not talk to each other about it, because we’re trying to respect each other’s’ wishes, or anyone else, because we both want to pretend it’s not happening. Then finally we’ll reach a starbase where you’re going to transfer off, so you’ll have to tell Uhura that you’ll leaving, and then she’ll come find me – I’ll be with Bones about to drown my sorrows – and kick my ass until I get some sense knocked into me, and I’ll run across the starbase to come find you, right before you get beamed aboard your new ship. And I’ll make a grand proclamation and everyone will cheer and it’ll be awesome, but also super embarrassing and that’s all just way too much angst anyway, so let’s not, okay?”

Spock stared at him; Jim was pretty sure being a Vulcan was the only thing saving him from being gaped-mouthed right now. “Captain.” Spock paused, presumably to gather his thoughts. “That may be the most illogical thing you have ever said. I fail to understand how any of those events would necessarily follow one another.”

“That’s because they don’t,” said Jim firmly. “Because we are on a spaceship, which means this is a sci-fi, or maybe a space western. It is definitely not a space rom com. So we are going to talk about our feelings, or whatever Vulcan word you want to use for it, like rational adults, so we can get this romantic subplot taken care of with a minimum of angst, and get back to exploring strange new worlds, seeking out new life and new civilizations, and occasionally blowing shit up.”

Spock’s illogic sensors must have gotten overloaded at that point, as he didn’t object to anything Jim had said, or even point out that that was not their actual mission statement, he just nodded and said, “Understood.” Yeah, Jim doubted that. Jim didn’t even understand half of what he had just said, and toward the end there… well, in the middle… well, right at the beginning, he honestly had just started rambling, but best just move on.

The room was silent for several seconds before Jim realized that, right, Spock had done the Vulcan equivalent of baring his soul last week only to have Jim, to all appearances, reject him soundly, so it was probably Jim’s turn to start. “I had this plan,” Jim begun. “In retrospect it was a really awful plan” – and whichever part of Jim’s brain had decided that Spock abandoning him for three years was fired – “but I was happy with it because I knew it would eventually get me the one thing I really want. And then you… yeah, and it pushed the timetable of my plan way the fuck up and I kind of freaked out a bit. So, I’m sorry if I acted like an asshole.”

There was something like hope in the back of Spock’s eyes – the best place to look to see any motions that Spock definitely wasn’t feeling – despite the fact that Jim hadn’t really said anything concrete yet. But then, Spock wasn’t an idiot, and while there were theoretically a lot of reasons that Spock declaring himself would throw off Jim’s plan, but there were very few that were somewhat probable. “The apology is unnecessary, but accepted, Jim.” – Ha! Victory! – “I would, however, like to know the content of this plan, if I may?” Spock asked.

Jim winced. “Actually, you can’t. See, I came up with the plan using the memories that the older you accidentally left in my head during our mind meld on Delta Vega, which he found out about earlier this week, and he called me up to lecture me about using ill-gained knowledge of the future to change the timeline. Apparently the Temporal Prime Directive is an actual thing, or, rather, it will be a thing, and if I keep messing around with the timeline, a time cop might come from the future and infiltrate our crew so he can… silently judge us or something, honestly it was confusing and kind of boring, so I stopped paying attention. Besides which, it seemed a bit hypocritical for Old Spock to be lecturing _me_ about changing the timeline, and the whole thing ended up devolving into a debate over the differences between actual alternate timelines and alternate universes that look like alternate timelines, but where all the ‘changes’ were already having been going to happen. In the end, we agreed I could keep my list of important future events, as long as I wasn’t spreading the knowledge around. Although, I do want to make sure you remind me not to let the Enterprise-B take off on her shakedown cruise until next Tuesday.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “Captain, I fail to see the logic sharing this piece of information with me, even if it is far removed from context that it is essentially nonsense, immediately after revealing that you had promised to refrain from doing so.”

“Hey, that’s an important bit of nonsense. It’s starred and triple underlined on my list, which I would show you, but I can’t. At any rate, it’s much more important than some Temporal Prime Directive.” Jim had no intention of being crushed to death by a bridge just so he could follow a rule that had a special loophole to allow for the stealing of marine mammals from the past, thank you very much. Who the fuck in the future was that obsessed with dolphins, anyway?

“From which I can surmise that your plan and its end goal are not of similar import,” Spock said, though there was something of a question in it.

“I already told you it was a stupid idea,” Jim pointed out. “What I want to accomplish hasn’t changed, but there’s no real reason to have all this faith in some plan that’s based on either an alternate timeline or an alternate universe and so, realistically, probably doesn’t have nearly as high a chance of success as I was pretending it did. It may have taken me over a week to figure it out, but what I finally realized is that I’d much rather have faith in you.”

“Captain. Jim.” There was a certain hesitancy in Spock’s words, but not because he didn’t know his own mind; the earnest expression on Spock’s face told Jim that much. The pauses came from Spock wanting to openly express to Jim what he was feeling, without doing anything so un-Vulcan as _expressing feelings_ , and Jim felt himself falling a little bit harder because of that struggle. “I am always willing to help you in any way I can, if you would only share with me what you wish to accomplish.”

A small smile stole across Jim’s expression. “Spock, you know me better than anyone else in the universe. You really can’t guess what it is I want?”

“Vulcans do not guess,” Spock said with a faint air of exasperation. Vulcans, Jim had learned, did not, as a general rule, do a lot of things that didn’t involve being pedantic, cagey sons of bitches. Probably Jim shouldn’t have found that endearing.

“What I want,” Jim said, slowly and clearly, being sure to give each word the full weight it deserved, “the only thing I’ve wanted since the day you walked onto the bridge of my starship and offered me fucking character references, even if I didn’t always know it, is you and me, until death do us part.” Jim was hoping for the death in question to be the heat death of the universe, personally, but he did realize he would probably have to compromise on that point.

Oh look, it was the return of not-gape-mouthed Spock. “Your declaration bares marked similarity to traditional Earth wedding vows.”

Jim tried to raise one of his own eyebrows at Spock, somewhat unsuccessfully. “Huh, imagine that. Though, to be clear, we can’t actually get married until after I turn thirty, or Bones may try to kill me in my sleep to save me from myself.” Because if there was anyone who might confuse flirty banter with a deliberate marriage proposal, it was definitely Spock.

“Most illogical,” Spock muttered to himself, before addressing Jim once again. “May I take your statement to mean, then, that you are interested in forming a monogamous romantic relationship with me at this time, with the intention of making it permanent in two years’ time?”

Jim smiled at Spock and gave him a salacious wink. “What I mean is that you can sexually harass me at any time, as long as you let me return the favor.”

“Captain,” Spock said with all the due seriousness of a First Officer, “that sort of behavior on the bridge of a starship would be most unbecoming of Starfleet officers.”

Jim threw his head back and laughed. Spock was _such_ a pedantic asshole. Spock opened his mouth to speak again, but Jim cut him off by reaching across the desk to touch their hands again. But it was not a light brush of hands that Spock had initiated a week ago; this time Jim tangled their fingers together and gripped Spock’s hand tight in his own. Spock’s mouth clicked shut, and Jim thought the tips of his ears turned green. “Hey,” Jim said, grinning from ear to ear.

“Hello, Jim,” Spock replied stiffly, and Jim felt the urge to laugh again.

And then, because he somehow hadn’t said it yet, “I love you.”

“I return your sentiments.” That had to be one of the least romantic responses possible, right after ‘that is so weird,’ and ‘I know.’ But then, this wasn’t a space rom com, it was a sci-fi or a space western or, more accurately, it was Jim’s life, and as far as he was concerned, ‘I return your sentiments’ was pretty much perfect.


End file.
